


Fashionably Late

by myladyriver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hogwarts, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myladyriver/pseuds/myladyriver





	Fashionably Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Clytemnestra (Lady_Clytemnestra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clytemnestra/gifts).



Having just put the kettle on for tea, I wandered back into the living room, smiling when I saw Bella sitting on the couch, her head tilted back sleepily. It was early for us both on a Sunday, but as today was the day we were, essentially, moving in to Hogwarts, we’d risen much earlier. This was due both to necessity, and an inability to sleep from nerves.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I teased fondly, running my fingertips lightly over her shoulders as I walked behind her, making my way around the couch. She opened her eyes to see me standing before her, and I let my own eyes take in the welcome sight that sat before me. Bellatrix wore my large, faded green sleep-shirt and little else; her legs were bare to her mid-thigh, her curls were even more tousled than usual, and her expression was soft from sleep. She frowned up at me with exaggerated annoyance, though mirth creased the corners of her eyes in a way I found entirely too endearing.

“Hmph,” she grumbled. “Mornings are much more enjoyable when you can sleep through them.”

“Or at least can stay in bed for as long as you’d like,” I agreed, bending down to kiss her good morning. Bella hummed against my lips, her hands finding my waist and tugging me down. With a startled laugh, I fell forward, only just stopping myself from losing my balance completely and collapsing on to her. I now sat facing her, straddling her lap, her hands resting on my lower back.

“Well, that worked out rather well for me,” she smirked, her fingers idly stroking my back.

“Oh, I believe I got rather lucky there, too,” I replied with a grin, clamping my legs around her thighs in emphasis.

“I got the better view,” she shot back, looking at my bosom meaningfully, which was just about eyes level for her.

“Cheeky,” I smiled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Definitely liking the added height advantage,” I commented, resting my forearms on her shoulders so that my hands could wind themselves through the corkscrews of her endless black hair.

“You know, it’s funny -- I’m so used to feeling tiny compared to my partners, who have always been men a good foot taller than me. And then here you are, a woman only slightly less tiny than myself, who’s everything I’ve never had. It’s different.”

“Different good or different bad?” I asked, absently curling a lock of Bella’s hair around my finger.

“Different good,” she answered immediately, the conviction in her voice leaving me with no doubt that she meant it.

“You know, I sometimes forget how very young you are,” Bellatrix confessed in a whisper, her hands smoothing over my upper arms.

“Me, too,” I sighed, resting my forehead against Bella’s shoulder. “Most of the time, I suppose I just feel so incredibly old.”

“Is it...Am I why you feel that way?” she asked, her fingers digging into my arms as if she feared the answer.

“No, Bella. You make me feel safe,” I answered softly, smiling into the warm skin of her neck.

“Then why, do you think, if it’s not because you’re dating a woman as old as I am?” Bellatrix queried, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Stop that,” I scolded, lifting my head to swat her arm and scowl at her. “I won’t have any of that ‘old woman’ talk. You’re not old, you’re Bella, and you’re beautiful, and you’re mine. So stop.” Bellatrix nodded, and placed an apologetic kiss on my shoulder.

“So?” she prompted when I didn’t speak right away. I chuckled.

“You’re really curious about this, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Mm. I want to understand you. Also might help explain why you’re with me.”

“Oh, that one’s easy,” I smiled. “I’m with you because I love you, you daft woman.” I ducked my head to kiss Bella more thoroughly than I had earlier, my lips parting and my tongue sliding provocatively against hers. She moaned into my mouth when I pulled gently on her hair, my fingers scraping against her scalp, causing her to arch up into me. Her hands gripped my waist tightly, her fingers digging into my hips in the way she knew I loved. I squirmed against her thighs in an attempt to achieve some friction, which made Bellatrix shake with silent laughter.

“ _Rude_ ,” I murmured, moving my lips to her throat, one of my hands splayed across her chest.

“You really don’t want to tell me why, do you?” she asked breathlessly as her hands slid beneath my shirt, her fingernails scratching lightly up and down my back.

“Later,” I promised. “Tonight. Right now, I need to feel your skin against mine, taste you and touch you until you look properly ravished, and you can only remember my name,” I said, my voice low and rough with arousal.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she gasped, not specifying which part, the now or the tonight.

 

Bellatrix’s POV

“Hermione.”

“Mm?” the woman in question hummed distractedly, her gaze not straying from the book she was reading. Beside her in bed, I sighed in frustration, my brow creasing in annoyance.

“Hermione,” I tried again, alternating between glaring at the book that was taking up all of her attention, and admiring how unsuspectingly sexy she was in her reading glasses. When I received the same response as before, I huffed impatiently and threw back the blankets that covered my legs. My dark hair spilled over my bare shoulders as I deftly straddled Hermione’s thighs, leaning forward to snatch her book away. I settled myself comfortably on her lap as I tossed the book to the side; Hermione stared up at me indignantly, purposefully ignoring the fact that from the waist up, I was clad in only a black bra.

“For Merlin’s sakes, Bella, really?” Hermione queried, pursing her lips in exasperation as she looked up at me.

“Yes, really, because you’re ignoring me and you promised that you’d tell me tonight,” I retorted, my tone more caustic than I had intended. I brushed my fingers lightly over her shoulder in way of apology, dropping my defiant gaze.

“Bella,” Hermione said gently, smoothing back my thick cascade of curls.

“I want to know,” I muttered stubbornly.

“It’s not-- I’m not sure that there’s a specific reason that I feel so old,” she started, her hands settling on my hips. “In some ways, I suppose I’ve always been that way, and I think there are a lot of factors involved. My cleverness and interest in books meant that I was a lonely child. Before Harry and Ron, I never really had friends, and had to rely on myself. Growing up like that has a way of making you feel old beyond your years. But I do think that most of it stems from being part of the fight from such a young age. There are no children in war; the three of us never had a chance.” Hermione spoke slowly, and I could tell that she had given it a good deal of thought.

“That,” I began ponderously, “is something I am deeply familiar with.” She nodded absently, her grip on me tightening protectively.

“I’d wondered about that,” she said softly.

“There are no children in war,” I echoed in agreement. Hermione sighed heavily, her arms snaking around my waist and puling me closer. Silence fell between us, pensive, weary and kind.

“Makes you wonder,” I eventually murmured, “about how you ended up where you are, and I became what I did.”

“We ended up in the same place, Bella,” she pointed out, nudging my arm in emphasis. “Just took you longer.”

“The only reason I’m here is because this is where you are,” I informed her flatly.

“You love me,” Hermione stated calmly.

“Yes,” I replied, uncertain where she was going with this.

“You fell in love for the first time in your life at age forty-eight. Not only that, but you fell in love with a muggle-born witch who is on the side that is fighting against the man you were loyal to for the majority of your life. You love me. Do you have any idea how remarkable -- how improbable -- that is, Bella?”

“I-- You’re clever and patient with me. You’re kind and powerful. You’re stubborn and brilliant. You forgive the unforgivable and you’re...gorgeous. Loving you is easy; it’s the rest of it that’s difficult.” I spoke gruffly,

“I know the feeling,” Hermione told me with slow surety, cupping my face in her soft hands. Heat crawled over my skin at the sentiment of the moment, but I leaned in to her body and kissed her smiling mouth. My hands quickly made their way under the hem of her sleep shirt and skated over her warm skin, my fingertips tracing her ribs.

“What, you don’t want to have a deep and meaningful conversation this time?” Hermione teased breathlessly, her eyes bright as she slid my bra straps off my shoulders.

“Don’t start,” I smirked, carefully removing her glasses before trailing kisses along her jaw.


End file.
